


Waiting in Tangier

by Shadowheartdesigns (shadowkitten)



Series: Smoke and Mirrors [10]
Category: Princess Principal (Anime)
Genre: Confrontation, F/F, On the Run, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 02:59:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14844354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowkitten/pseuds/Shadowheartdesigns
Summary: Months ago, a stranger had waltzed into Abigail's life. She had melted her heart, and left. She promised to return. Abigail waited for her. She would wait as long as it took. Then late that summer, Zelda came back.





	Waiting in Tangier

**Author's Note:**

> Abigail was introduced in Wilderness of Mirrors, and this is a direct follow-on to that story. It takes place in parallel with the other Smoke and Mirrors stories up to Long Live the Queen ch. 4.

Waiting.

It was quite literally what Abigail did. The Hotel Americana paid her to wait.

She stood beside the restaurant's entrance, during slower hours, and guided diners to empty tables. She handed menus to patrons in the part of the restaurant she had been assigned to. She took orders. She brought out drinks and food.

She waited.

She was a little under average height, for a European. Her hips and breasts were average. Her waist was slender. She looked curvy. If only she had pale, glowing skin, and golden hair, and sky-blue eyes, she mused. Her dark, curly hair and pale green eyes didn't especially stand out. Like most Europeans in Morocco, she had a light tan. Unlike some, she didn't burn in the harsh North African sun.

She sighed. No customers had arrived in the last quarter hour. No real surprise. She was on a slow shift today. But she didn't really care for waiting. Ironically. She preferred being active.

She was just over 20. A little more than a year had passed since she had moved to Tangier. She had been a loyal citizen of the Kingdom of Albion, who had the misfortune to live in Liverpool, the heart of the Commonwealth. The employment agency that she had registered with had suggested this assignment: The Hotel Americana, in Tangier.

If Casablanca was the shiny, gilded capital of the North African expatriate movement, Tangier was its solid nickel core. It was less glamorous, but if anything stronger and more stable.

Waiting.

Several months ago she had met someone. A stranger, who had waltzed into the restaurant. Tall, strong, confident, handsome, rather than beautiful, and dressed to the nines. She had melted Abigail with a single glance. And although she had gone to a table on her own, saying she was meeting a friend, that table had been in her area.

The friend had been a man. Her heart had turned to stone. A sick feeling had gripped her stomach. Why had she even thought ... no. Silly.

_"Whisky sour."_

She still remembered that. It was the only thing she had ordered. Well ... the only thing from the menu.

Even now, remembering that night made her knees go rubbery. Abby had never been with a girl before. She had looked. She had dreamed. Dreamed of soft hands and tender lips, butterfly kisses across her lips and cheeks and jawline.

What had happened that night had been far more intense. Firm and strong hands, guiding her body. Setting aflame parts she never knew she had. And the lips had been aggressive. Domineering. If a mere gaze had melted her, the touch, the kiss, the tongue, the feeling of her body on, and above, hers ... she had been reduced to slag, and reforged according to the woman's slightest whim.

_"Will you come back to Tangier?"_

_"I shall make a point of it, darling. Just be sure to remember me, yes?"_

It had given her a spark of hope. No, Tangier had not done her wrong. No, she did not feel hopeless, or dispirited. But hearing that she would come back to her ... of course she would remember her!

Waiting.

So much time had passed. Time of strange faces. Of disappointment that she had to force down, each time she saw a face that wasn't _hers_.

She sighed. She turned. There were only a few more minutes that she had to wait. Soon her shift would end. Tomorrow, at least, she would be on the dinner shift. There would be a proper _maitre d_ ', and she could focus on taking and delivering orders.

She started to straighten up the menus behind her. Putting things in order for the next girl to come. Only a few more minutes before she would spend another night of loneliness.

"Abigail?"

Her heart stopped beating. Every muscle in her body froze. Her mind sparked to flame. She shivered. Her soul melted.

Slowly, she turned.

Icy blue eyes. Short blonde hair. Tall. Aura of strength. Confidence. An arrogant smirk on her lips.

Her eyes widened.

"Z ... Zelda?"

The smirk widened into a grin.

The woman wore a black jacket and waistcoat; white silk shirt and red ascot; sharp pressed pants; freshly shined patent leather shoes. Almost exactly as she remembered, in every detail.

"So. You have remembered?"

"Y .. yeah. I ... yeah."

They stood there a moment. Zelda chuckled softly.

"Am I to be seated?"

"Oh! Yes. I mean, of course! This way, Zel .. er .. Ma'am!"

She grabbed a menu. Nervously trotting over to an empty table. Glancing behind herself with eyes wide with nervous fearful anticipation.

"Here. This table. I mean, will this table do?"

Zelda's smile turned into a toothy grin. She reached out, fingertips just barely grazing Abby's bare forearm. Electricity shuddered up her skin.

"It will be suitable."

As Zelda pulled out her chair, Abby noticed, for the first time, that her left leg moved stiffly. The faintest of limps. And her face: its geometry looked ... different. It was subtle, but all-too noticeable. A brief tremor of concern hit her. She pushed it aside. For the moment.

"Umm.. will... will you have a whisky sour, ma'am?"

Zelda laughed softly.

"My, you do have a splendid memory. Yes indeed, I shall."

Abby smiled, and set a menu down in front of Zelda.

"I'll have that right out to you, ma'am!"

She trotted away to the bar.

"Whisky sour!"

The bartender, a middle-aged man with dark black skin and close-shaved receding hair, grinned.

"Sure thing, Abby. You're off now though, right?"

"Ahhh. Well. Kinda. But the customer .. I mean, I ... I kinda need to see to her needs ...."

Abby's cheeks turned red.

"You .. you know what I mean, Sam."

"Yeah, I know what you mean, Abby. Whisky sour, coming up shortly."

Abby grinned. Shifted her weight nervously. Frowned, and pursed her lips, and puffed out her cheeks. She glanced back to the table where she had seated Zelda ... and saw the woman sitting there, her right leg crossed over her left, hand on her cheek, eyes glued to Abigail and watching every movement she made with undisguised amusement.

Abby's eyes went wide, and she hurriedly turned away from Zelda. Unable to repress a huge silly grin.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say she's got her eyes on you, Abby."

The waitress' cheeks turned a hot, bright red. She couldn't quite meet Sam's eyes.

"Ah. Well. Yeah. Thanks. Um, for the drink. For her. I mean. Yeah."

Sam chuckled as Abby turned and walked carefully back to Zelda's table.

Her face was still red, and she wasn't quite able to make eye contact with her.

"Umm. Your sour. Whisky. I mean ... your drink. Ma'am."

Zelda laughed.

"Flighty little thing. Tell me, when is your shift over for the night?"

"Ahhh. It .. I mean, it ended five minutes ago."

"Oh dear. I am so terribly sorry, Abigail. Am I keeping you from anything?"  
"No! I mean. No, ma'am. It's my pleasure to serve ... umm ... I mean, to be of service."

Abby was basically a puddle of embarrassed, thrilled, eager goo.

"Well. As it happens, I am not a guest of the Hotel Americana this evening. And this drink will, I suspect, be finished in a matter of minutes. I fear my appetite runs to a course not offered on your ... regular menu. Have you any objection to waiting a moment?"

"Ahhh. Well ... I suppose not. Umm. I will ... I'll go change and wait for you out in the lobby. I mean, I ... can't wait here and really I can't really just walk out of here with ...."

"Abigail?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"That will do."

Zelda's voice was firm and direct, but she wore a wry grin as she said it.

"Yes ma'am."

Waiting.

Sometimes waiting was a sweet, anxious pleasure.

She sat on a green sofa. She had changed in record time. And as soon as she physically could, she sat here. Watching the entrance to the restaurant.

The lounge was arranged such that one could not sit and watch the diners. Doubtless for the sake of providing some level of privacy.

And as soon as Abby saw the tall woman with her short blonde hair and piercing cold blue eyes limp out of the restaurant, she was on her feet. Bounding over to her, drawing an amused chuckle from the woman.

"Hey! I .. I hope you enjoyed your ... um, meal?"

Zelda shrugged.

"The drink was well-mixed. And I appreciated the _servitris_ that delivered it. I was somewhat less enthused with the girl that replaced her."

Abby blushed, and glanced away.

"Ahh. Yeah. I ... did you tip her at least?"

Zelda laughed.

"Don't worry about that, Abigail. I was quite polite with her. Now, shall we?`"

Abby nodded, beaming. Her face turning a slightly brighter shade of red as Zelda placed a hand on her lower back, guiding her out of the lounge and past the front desk to the vaguely disapproving gaze of a dark-skinned man with a goatee.

"Seeya Monday, Antoin!"

"Until then, Mademoiselle Abigail," he replied, with forced politeness.

Zelda ignored the exchange.

The late afternoon heat was beginning to die down. It was comfortable in Abby's mind. She'd gotten used to the perpetual spring/summer of Morocco. She glanced at Zelda, who showed no particular reaction to the weather.

"So. You aren't staying here."

"No. I hope you're not disappointed."

"No, not really."

"I have decided that the Maison Marrakesh better meets my current needs."

"Needs?" Abby asked quietly.

Zelda shrugged.

"Avoiding, perhaps, the troubles that may accrue from _mingling_ with staff?"

Zelda's hand slid down just a little bit, sending shivers up Abby's spine.

"Ahhh. Right. Yes. Yes, I ... yeah."

Zelda, hand just barely grazing the swell of Abby's rear, guided her to the taxi stand in front of the hotel. A young European man with wild red hair under his cap grinned at them.

"Where to?"

"Maison Marrakesh. Sharpish," Zelda responded.

"Sure thing sir! Er, sorry. Ma'am."

He opened the rear door, on the passenger side of his taxi, and Zelda, ignoring the cabby's mistake, motioned Abby in. She followed thereafter.

"So, Abigail. It's nice to see you. You're looking well."

Abby's cheeks turned red again.

"Yeah. Tangier's been good to me. You ... well. You're looking good too, except ...."

"Ahh. The leg. Yes, a long story. I'll tell you, but later."

Abby nodded once. Then, after taking a glance at the cab driver seated in the open front portion of the cab, she snuggled in close to Zelda. The older woman smiled, and wrapped her arms around Abby.

"I've waited so long for this. I was starting to think you'd never come back."

"I had a similar fear," Zelda whispered.

Abby looked up into her eyes, the faintest glimmer of surprise in them.

Zelda chuckled, and kissed Abby's forehead.

"It was a difficult time, after I left you. Again, I shall tell you once we reach privacy."

Abby nodded, and contented herself with nuzzling against Zelda's neck, grazing her lips across her skin.

A soft sound from Zelda, and the feeling of her hands wandering down Abby's side, told her that the nuzzling was welcome.

***

Zelda's room at the Maison Marrakesh was nice, if less extravagent then the deluxe suite Abby remembered before. The room had a king-size bed and private bath-room. An electric light fashioned like a chandelier hung over a small round table with four chairs, next to an adequate liquor cabinet. The light was currently off.

Zelda lay in bed, on her back. Her eyes were half-open. Her arms were crossed above her head. She sighed softly in contentment.

Beside her, Abby lay, her head resting on Zelda's upper thigh. One arm draped over Zelda's bare waist, the other wrapped round the other side of her leg. Her legs, partly bent, rubbed gently against Zelda's side.

"Missed you," Abby whispered.

Zelda lowered her arms, gently grasping Abby's ankle, bringing her foot to her lips, kissing very softly. Abby giggled.

"And I you, darling Abigail."

Abby shifted, resting her head on Zelda's belly, and gazing up at her. "How long are you staying, Zelda?"

Zelda smiled, and reached down to cup Abby's cheek. She started to sit up, and Abby hastily moved to meet her, wrapping her arms around Zelda's shoulders and eagerly meeting her lips. The kiss was quick but earnest.

"Forever and a day if I can manage it."

Abby beamed. "Really?"

"Of course. I would not lie to you. Well ... again, in any case."

Abby sighed. "I guess you did lie to me before? What...what happened?"

“I never did have a sister.”

“But you did leave for Marseille?”

“Yes, I ... abducted a woman. Her guardian ... no, I must be frank. I abducted Princess Charlotte of the Kingdom of Albion, and her guardian and lover came for me.”

“And ... shot you?”

“Well, it was one of her companions that did that. She did, however, batter me into unconsciousness. She left me for dead. It was a miracle that I did not die, to be frank. I was saved by a surgeon with more talent than sense. When I recovered, I decided to come here to be with you.”

“Zelda....”

“I would not blame you if you told me to leave, or turned me over to the authorities,”

“No, I could never do such a thing!”

“I am not a good person, Abigail.”

“You are, At heart, you are. I … let my love redeem you, Zelda!”

She laughed,

“I am beyond redemption. My soul is already condemned to hell for my actions. I hope only to live out what time I have left here, in your company.”

“Zelda, I love you. I want to make everything better.”

“Abigail ... hearing you say this ... it lightens my heart. Though you must know it is not possible to do. I don't expect to live long. I've made too many enemies. All Albion hates me. When the time does come, promise me that you will flee. Let me die, while you live on.”

“I ... can't promise that, I want to live a life with you, Please ... promise _me_! We'll flee and not fight. We can go to Columbia, or Incognia, or China ... anywhere, just so we can be together!”

"It won't matter where I go, Abigail. My enemies have a very long reach."

"Then ... Then I'll die alongside you."

"No. I won't allow it, if it's at all in my power. You are a young woman."

"So are you."

"No, I am a corpse, granted the privilege of spending a few more pleasurable evenings with ... with the woman I adore."

Abby clung to Zelda tightly. She kissed her neck softly.

"Please, don't say such things. I want you forever."

"Forever and a day, I said. If I can manage it."

They kissed again. A slower kiss, that lingered. A kiss that deepened, as Zelda lay back on the bed, pulling Abby with her, and letting her hands slip down Abby's body.

***

Early the next morning, Zelda checked out of her room at the Maison Marrakesh. They packed what little possessions Zelda had brought with her, and ate breakfast at the Gran Kasbah restaurant attached to the hotel.

It was a hot late summer day. The sun shone in a cloudless blue sky. Locals and Europeans alike lazily meandered through the streets, congregating in cafes or visiting the shops. There was little talk of the insurrection in the Maghreb earlier in the summer, which hadn't reached this area. It had been brutally suppressed by French and Moroccan forces, and the Sultan had, as expected, declared the suspected leaders of the movement terrorists, and enemies of Morocco, France, and in fact Islam.

Abby clutched Zelda's hand as they walked, smiling happily and giving the woman a cheap tour of the city that she now called home. Zelda listened to every word with amusement, asking questions now and then to encourage Abby's enthusiasm. They drank sweet mint tea and ate chickpea cakes and cooked eggplant with rice for lunch, and spent the afternoon happily lost in the Medina.

As the sun set and the darkness of evening stretched out over the city, they ate a supper of tajine and roasted lamb.

They reached Abby's flat early in the morning, exhausted but happy.

***

An odd normalcy settled in to their lives. Abby continued to work at the hotel. Zelda let her hair grow out, and darkened it with dye. She avoided going out in public at first, but eventually she found herself utterly bored while Abby was away. So, she started to shop, and clean, and cook.

"My housewife," Abby had joked one day, returning home from work to find a warm supper waiting for her.

Zelda smirked. "I aim to please my beloved."

Abby melted. The food had been delicious. The wine had complimented the flavors. The companionship afterward had been indescribable.

"Love you," Abby cooed. She was cuddled tight against Zelda's side.

"And I love you, Abigail."

The younger woman laughed. "You always call me that."

"It's your name."

"Well ... yes. Everyone else calls me Abby."

"You deserve to be called a name that matches your beauty and endless happiness."

Abby giggled. "Abby's faster."

Zelda frowned. "You should know by now, that I do not do anything in a rushed manner."

Abby giggled again, squirming slightly. "True."

***

"It's been two months," Abby said. She was in the kitchen. As it was her off day, she had decreed it Zelda's Day of Rest. She was cooking supper.

Zelda, sitting in the living room, looked up from her magazine. "Has it? I've lost track of the time, dear."

Abby grinned. "I've counted every last second, love."

Zelda laughed. "So very like you, darling."

Abby walked out into the living room, and leaned down to her. They kissed, a quick but tender kiss. "Supper will be ready soon."

Zelda nodded. "I cannot wait. The sooner supper is finished, the sooner we can retire to bed."

Abby giggled, and shook her head. "You're terrible."

"And you adore me for that, Abigail."

She shrugged, and walked back into the kitchen.

Zelda sighed, and picked her magazine up. Just then, there was a knock at the door.

"Can you get that, dear? I've my hands full with a hot baking pan."

Zelda sighed, again, and pulled herself up to her feet. "Of course love. Are you expecting anyone?"

"No, not really. It may be a package, though it's a bit early for it to arrive."

"Well, we shall know soon, then." She opened the door.

Zelda froze, her eyes wide. She took a step backward.

"Who is it, Zelda? Is it the package? I'd hoped it would've arrived when you were out, but ...." Abby glanced out of the kitchen with a grin.

Her grin melted into horror as she saw what was happening.

Zelda took another step backward. A young girl entered the flat and closed the door behind her.

She held a revolver, aimed at Zelda's face. She wore a top-hat, and a black mask over her nose and mouth, and a black long-sleeved leotard. Her black gloves had red palms. Her legs were bare, down to shin-high, tightly-laced boots.

"Well. So soon? You are nothing if not efficient," Zelda said quietly.

Abby took a faltering step toward Zelda.

"Abigail, stay back," Zelda said.

"I've no quarrel with you," the girl said, addressing Abby.

Abby took a very deep breath, and took another step forward, until she was standing beside Zelda.

"Please do not do this," she said quietly.

The girl glanced at her. She had very deep, rich blue eyes. The fringes of hair hanging from her top-hat were ash-blonde.

"Step away from me, Abigail," Zelda said, surprisingly calm. Her eyes were locked on the masked girl.

"No," she whispered.

"Abigail, is it? Do you desire to die?"

Abby took another step forward.

"I want Zelda to live. If I can't have that .…"

"Abigail, foolish child, step back!"

"No, Zelda. I will not."

Zelda placed a hand on her forearm. Abby shrugged it off, and took another step forward.

The woman shifted her gun between Abby and Zelda.

"What will you do," Abby asked quietly. "Shoot me? Zelda will kill you if you do. Shoot Zelda? You'll earn my eternal enmity if you do that. Do you love someone? Perhaps a certain royal ...."

"Quiet," the girl said in a calm voice.

"Abigail, for the love of Christ, step away," Zelda said in an angry voice.

Abby clenched her fists.

"What would you do if someone shot your love?" Abby challenged.

"This very thing," the girl replied, aiming the gun at Abby for a slightly longer moment.

Abby gasped, but stood her ground.

"Abigail," Zelda hissed, "I truly must insist that you shut your mouth and move away from me this very instant. You are making things worse for the both of us."

"No! I won't back down. This is wrong, utterly wrong. Whatever she did in the past, it is in the past. She isn't your enemy any more. She isn't a spy, or an assassin, or anything else."

The girl's eyes narrowed.

"You labor under several false assumptions. First, you assume that I will not shoot you. I shall, and lose no sleep over it. Second, you fail to realize that I can kill the both of you in less time than it takes to describe the act."

"But you haven't," Abby whispered.

An awkward silence descended over the three young women.

"I would prefer not to kill an innocent," the girl finally responded.

"Then don't kill anyone. Because, as God is my witness, you shall not kill Zelda without killing me as well."

Zelda closed her eyes, and sighed. "Abigail ...."

"Please?" Abby whined. "Please, just leave us in peace. We'll leave. We'll go away. Far away, and we'll never interfere with Albion ever, ever again!"

The girl remained in place. Her brow furrowed. She looked at Zelda for a long moment, then back to Abby.

"Three days."

Abby gasped.

"Three days. If after that time I find you, either of you, anywhere in Europe or Africa, I will kill you."

Abby nodded. "We'll go. Right?"

Zelda took a very deep breath. "You've grown soft, Ange. Were I not grown even softer, you would be a dead woman now."

Ange's eyes returned to Zelda. "We are both dead already, remember?"

A thin smile touched Zelda's lips. "Yes. Yes, I recall."

Ange, still pointing her gun at Abby and Zelda, side-stepped cautiously through the flat, until she arrived at the balcony door. With one hand, she turned the lock and pulled the door open.

She stepped out, and pulled a smooth gilded sphere from a pouch at her side.

"New C-ball," Zelda observed.

Ange didn't reply. She adjusted a barely visible contact with her thumb, and green Cavorite radiation enveloped her. She hopped up onto the railing.

"Three days," she repeated, before stepping backward into the empty darkness behind her.

***

Waiting.

That's what it was. Waiting. Waiting with five-star dining-service. Waiting with the best accommodations that could be crammed into a ship. But in the end, it was all about waiting.

Abby stood on the promenade deck. She leaned against the railing, looking out across the endless expanse of ocean. The sun was setting. The ship plowed through the waters of the Atlantic, aiming as though to plunge into its fiery depths.

Abby sighed, and turned. She was leaning against the railing, looking across the deck at the young woman wearing a blue pantsuit and holding a smoldering cigarette in strong and nimble fingers. A woman that had forever disrupted ... no. Too strong a word. Forever _changed_ her life. She glanced back to the east. Stars were already beginning to appear along the horizon. Somewhere, far back beyond them, lay Liverpool, and Tangier, and the life that Abby had known for 20 years. She would miss it, even considering.

She felt more than heard the woman approach. She turned back to her. The cigarette was gone. She moved slowly, though not by choice. Her limp was more pronounced here. The sea air didn't appear to agree with her.

She didn't stop until her body came into contact with Abby's, her arms coming to rest around her shoulders.

"Abigail," she whispered. "Abigail, my darling, beloved fool."

Abby wrapped her arms around Zelda's body. "I love you. If that makes me a fool ...."

Zelda laughed. "The biggest on the planet, yes."

"We're safe now, though. We'll be in New York soon, and from there we can go ... anywhere. California, Texas, Columbia, Brazil ...."

"Abigail, I am tired. I had thought my days of running were at an end in Tangier."

"We don't have to run, though. We can take a train from New York to Los Angeles."

"Hm. And pray my travel papers convince the officials first in Texas, then in California? I'd rather stay in New York."

Abby sighed. "We can, I guess. Will we be safe?"

"As safe as anywhere else. I do not know what Ange will say to her superiors. Clearly her orders were to kill me, and she did not do so. Will they send someone else?"

"Maybe she lied?"

"Very likely. She excels at that."

Abby kissed Zelda's lips. "No more talk about her. Never, ever again. We have our lives ahead of us now."

Zelda smiled. "Alright, Abby."

Abby grinned. "Getting lazy?"

"Hm. Striving for greater efficiency, perhaps?"

Their lips met. The kiss lingered. They focused on the moment they were in. For a short period of time, the chaotic past and uncertain future melted into insignificance.


End file.
